High School Farewell
Chapter Four
"We will now hold a moment of silence in honor of Amy Barklett," said the principal over the loudspeaker.
People bent their heads in pious fashion, and Sam appeared to be the most grieved.
"Thank you. The funeral will be held this Saturday at eight P.M. in West Cursor Abbey. This is a terrible time in our school's history; there have been no deaths for twenty years here, and suddenly this happens. Not to mention that Amy was just like you, an average girl, member of Student Council, and…" Thus followed an enumeration of her merits and accomplishments.
After class, Sam prevented Lizzie from leaving. "She was not just an average girl; our principal is a bastard! Amy is a girl who deserved to be praised, honored, elevated, and I will make sure she gets the utmost respect."
"What are you going to do? Dig up her grave?"
"Very funny, Lizzie. You know I loved her, but necrophilia is not one of my character traits."
"No, you never loved Amy. You were in love with me all along."
"Me? Samuel Jorsell Perton, in love with Heart-Breaker Lizzie? Yeah, right."
"That's what she believed, that you wrote that letter and signed Larry's name to it."
"Did my gifts of roses prove nothing? Amy Barklett, what is this potter's field a manic psychopath has condemned you to? And I will not forget, Heart-Breaker, that it was your adopted sister's father that murdered my beloved. You are now Perton Enemy Number One, and I suggest you be on your guard."
Then he stormed off, leaving Lizzie in a grumpy mood.
At lunchtime, Ethan was handing out wedding invitations. He gave one to Lizzie, saying, "I forgot until this morning, when they announced Amy's funeral. Can you believe it? A wedding and a funeral in the same day! Who would've imagined?"
Lizzie carried her tray over to an empty table, but her invitation fell out of her hands. She was about to stoop to pick it up, when Gordo rushed to do it before she got there.
"So, Ethan and Nichole are getting married, with just a few weeks left in the school year," Gordo said, giving Lizzie her invitation.
"Yes. What do you think they're up to, and not telling anybody till two days beforehand?"
"Probably trying to get printed as a married couple in the yearbook, of which I think the first printing will be processed next Tuesday, so they've made it just in time."
"Gordo, what are we going to do without Amy?" Lizzie said, began to cry, tears falling on her corn dog.
"To be honest, Lizzie, I don't know. I still don't have my valedictorian speech written, and---"
"Always the slacker, aren't you Gordo?" said a Hispanic girl.
"Gloria! Taken to eavesdropping, now?"
"Contrariwise, I was standing behind you, listening to your scintillating conversation. Lizzie could've warned you that I was there, but she's steeped into tears about that loser of a friend you had. Who needs friends? They just hold you back."
"Just because you've never had any, Gloria, doesn't mean you should relegate others for possessing them."
"You hear that Lizzie? You and Amy are merely possessions to Gordo here, and I'll bet you that it was he who wrote that letter and signed it with Tudgman's name."
"What?!?" moaned the girl, who was taken aback. "Gordo would never do anything like that."
"How can you be so sure? See, he has absconded," (for Gordo had run away), "he only cares for you, and I bet he's planning his own suicide, because he knows you and he will never be a couple."
"That's the absurdest thing I've ever heard!"
"Tsk, tsk. 'Most absurd,' Lizzie, not 'absurdest.' Do I have to teach you everything? But when Gordo is dead, you'll see that I was right."
The idea of a dead Gordo had never struck Lizzie before, but now it hit her imagination with such vivid colors. It was not unlikely. Perhaps Gloria was right; she was the smartest girl in school after all. But she shook her head a moment later—Samuel Perton was responsible for that letter. He was the one who could not live without her, as repulsive as that thought was.
Lizzie took her invitation home and showed it to her mother, who did not notice the date at first, but when it became apparent that it was that ensuing Saturday, she made a remark.
"You're not going."
"But Mom, this is Ethan we're talking about. Anybody who's anybody is going to be there, to see his marriage to Nichole."
"You will have to stay home, for it is Penelope Freyer's seventeenth birthday Saturday."
"I don't care about the little pipsqueak," Lizzie muttered under her breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, Mom."
On Friday, Lizzie's eyes were more susceptible to what was going on around her, and when she turned a corner to go to Government class, she saw Ken Taper flirting with Penelope!
"What is going on?" she asked Ken, while Penelope darted away, laughingly.
"Lizzie!" he exclaimed, perspiration pouring down his forehead in turrets. "I was just talking to your sister."
"You were flirting with her, Mr. Don Juan."
"Everybody's doing it these days. Well, everyone who is not getting married, either in reality or in their mind."
"How do you mean?"
"All your ex-boyfriends and everybody else want to date your sister. There are only three men who won't say a word to her: Ethan, Gordo, and Sam. They're oddballs."
"But you're my prom date!"
"Well, your sister is hot. See you around, Lizzie."
This irritated her for two reasons. For one thing, she had been counting on Ken to be true to her; and for the other, she would not be able to prove that she was not a Heart-Breaker if Ken chose another girl over herself.
Naturally, Lizzie was melancholy when she went home, where she felt even more unhappy knowing that she'd have to celebrate Penelope's birthday—in honor of someone she barely knew and whom was posing a threat to her usual environment—and was forced to skip Ethan's wedding, which would mean deferring her official adieu to a parting which would not be as magical as it would be could it happen at that prestigious event.
She woke up feeling like staying in bed, but knew it would be unwise to remain there. So she went down to the kitchen, where Mrs. McGuire was making Penelope's favorite breakfast—Johnny cakes with sap-free maple syrup and boiled eggs, which made Lizzie gag.
They then played games, until one o' clock, when Mr. McGuire believed it was time to show Penelope what they had bought her. It was a red beetle, used but as good as ever.
Lizzie's mouth fell agape. "You didn't buy me a car for my seventeenth birthday!"
"Well, we like Penelope better than you," her mother said. "She deserves it."
This made Lizzie extremely bitter, and she went to her room to pour out a leaky faucet. Was she to be disowned just because she was heading for college, and Penelope a heroine of the family? Or was this all some subtle nightmare?
She was left alone for several hours, during which time more tears than she ever knew a person could be a receptacle of dropped from her eyes. At six-thirty, her father knocked on her door, and told her it was time to get ready for Amy's funeral.
Amy! Oh, why had she been so selfish, when her dear friend was soon to be six feet under? This was a tragedy. Never would she see those glistening cheeks again, that merry, placid life that Amy led. She was so full of everything; a radiant beacon shone upon her. If she could muster up the courage, she would have to give Amy a eulogy.
When she came down, Mrs. McGuire told her that she had to ride in Penelope's car, and due to problems along en route—including gas trouble and other necessities—the family was twelve minutes late.
Easily the most conspicuous person in the chapel was Samuel Perton, who was wearing baggy jeans and bent in a prayerful fashion. It almost seemed as if his God had died, and another Nietzche stood before them all. He worshipped the girl—of that no one could doubt. It was a pitiful sight; some fellow classmates made glances at each other that seemed to say, "If he loved her so much, why doesn't he commit suicide?"
Myriad speeches were given on Amy's merits, but Lizzie felt unable to go squawking in front of an audience to extol her friend. She felt ashamed of this dearth of courage. However, she knew Amy would've understood.
The people went before the casket in a long queue to view the princess for the last time. For a princess she was, royal in happiness and in friendship. When it was Lizzie's turn, she could not help but say, "I'm sorry," very softly. Then she turned to go.
In Penelope's car again, she found the brio to shout, "I hate you!"
"What've I done?"
"What've you done? You stole my boyfriend and my family, and it is because of you that Amy is dead! You are the originator of all evil, and I wish you a one-way trip to hell."
